


season 2 episode 3

by yoonbot (iverins)



Category: Red Velvet (K-pop Band), VIXX
Genre: Gen, Office Worker AU, other idols of '90 line mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 07:15:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8788666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iverins/pseuds/yoonbot
Summary: Taekwoon sees a lot of himself in their department's newest intern.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [silentlybelieve](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentlybelieve/gifts).



> **warnings:** very inaccurate representations of korean office work/schooling system.
> 
> Dearest recipient ♡♡♡
> 
> I hope it's not too painfully obvious who I am! I really enjoyed all your prompts but this one spoke to me the most and I hope I've written it in a way that speaks to you too ♡ I hope your holiday season is full of all the lovely and amazing things you deserve!!! ❄♡❄♡❄♡❄

It’s five whole months before Taekwoon learns the new intern’s name.

Taekwoon’s actually known her name for a while, heard it when one of their superiors called for her to make copies or grab coffee, saw it pinned onto her blouse in the break room when she stuttered to greet him and he bowed in response. It’s just that with all the traffic of people coming and going in their company - either dismissed by their superiors themselves for not “working hard enough,” or resigning out of their own volition to go back home - Taekwoon tries not to let names get too comfortable on his tongue if he can help it. 

She’s kind of jittery, Bae Joohyun. The expression that’s usually on her face is even, carefully constructed to appeal to even the most judgemental gaze (in their case, the manager of sales team 2, who makes rare but not unexpected appearances in the break room on their floor at times), and her voice is soft, such that Taekwoon can only see the words that slip from between her lips. Taekwoon didn’t even notice how high-strung Bae Joohyun actually was until Gayoon, who had managed to survive the trials of internship with him back when they had first joined the company, mentioned it offhandedly in between discussing where exactly Hakyeon had made a mistake in a depreciation calculation.

“She’s fucking nervous, like, all the time.” Gayoon was not one to mince her words into small, palatable pieces. “Only people who are that nervous try that hard to make themselves look they have their shit together.”

Taekwoon thought hard about that. By the time he found he wanted to probe into the topic further, they’d already recalculated Hakyeon’s error and Taekwoon was sitting on the subway home, briefcase in his lap. Instead, he thought about it as the car bumped against the rails.

But Taekwoon could relate. This year’s retention rate of interns had been significantly smaller than last year’s, and Joohyun was the only one who had been initially assigned to their department who ended up staying. If Taekwoon had to memorize and carry twenty coffee orders to the office and make all the copies for the floor by himself, he imagined he’d be pretty nervous too. Luckily, he’d had Gayoon by his side during his internship days - who barely let it show when she was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of work piled up for them to do (if she ever felt overwhelmed at all, Taekwoon could never tell) - and following her organized, confident lead had made things much easier than they should’ve been, Taekwoon only realizes now. But when Taekwoon sees Joohyun walking briskly around their floor in her short, practical heels, sometimes her lips are pressed together like there are words she wants to say, words that he would only be able see slip from between her lips, pent up behind them, and he’s reminded of himself from two years ago.

The Taekwoon of back then wouldn’t let those words escape his innermost thoughts. Couldn’t tell Hakyeon - their friendly superior who had been an intern from the year before, or even Gayoon, who knew so whole-heartedly who she was as a person and where she was going. Instead, those words festered through late nights of collecting and interpreting data, and late nights of finally having time to sleep, lying with his eyes open and staring at the ceiling, lost in thought and the wide possibilities of the world. Taekwoon wonders if Joohyun has those kinds of moments. He wonders if he should ever ask, but Joohyun walks like a typhoon with coffee and copies in her hands like she has places to be and never enough time to reach the destination.

And every time they pass each other, Joohyun just smiles a close-lipped smile before pressing on. Every time, Taekwoon wonders what she’s thinking.

 

 

“You care too much,” is Gayoon’s curt response to everything. Efficient and to-the-point, like the abstracts of articles Taekwoon remembers mulling over in university. Gayoon talks a lot like an abstract, most of the time. If scholarly articles were printed in the color of profanity.

Taekwoon takes another sip of his beer, recalculating. Hakyeon, just returning from the bathroom, slides back into the seat beside him with an eager, “What are you guys talking about?” Minhyuk burps loudly from the other side of the table, to which Jieun laughs. Yongguk looks a mix of half-drunk and half-asleep, and no one quite knows where Kyungri went. 

“Taekwoon wants to invite the newbie to our next dinner,” Gayoon says, nodding her head in his direction. Taekwoon realizes that she’d never given him a direct _yes_ or _no_ to that suggestion and wonders if he’ll get one before their conversation flows to a different topic. “To which I said, _you care too much._ ” She takes a long, meaningful drink of her beer before continuing on. “She’s spoken with me maybe two times. Always about receivables. I don’t think that can be interpreted as wanting a dinner invitation.”

Hakyeon laughs. “Are you against it?” he challenges, to which Gayoon grimaces. “That’s not like you.”

“I’m just saying,” Gayoon says, tone purposeful. It makes her sound like she’s made a valid point though nothing’s really been said. Taekwoon reaches to sip at his beer again before noticing the bottle’s empty.

“There’s no harm in it,” Hakyeon reasons. “I mean, she’s been here for almost half a year now, I doubt she’s going to leave anytime soon.” He glances at Taekwoon before engaging back in a stare down with Gayoon, who still looks unsure. “If you don’t wanna ask, I will.”

The tension in Gayoon’s shoulders noticeably deflates. For all her confidence and sharp talk, Gayoon had bonded with Taekwoon over their shared tendency of comfortable silences and sticking around the people they knew. “That’s fine,” she says. 

Hakyeon considers. “If Taekwoon’s so bent on it,” he starts. Taekwoon was never really bent on anything.

“I don’t want her to be lonely,” Taekwoon says softly. Don’t want her to be lonely, don’t want her to feel out of place, don’t want her to give up, don’t want her to quit.

Their conversation lulls into a silence. From the looks in Hakyeon and Gayoon’s eyes, their thoughts are along similar lines.

 

 

The first time Taekwoon actually talks to Bae Joohyun is as she’s furiously dabbing coffee out of his blazer in the break room with a wet paper towel. Her hand is a blur trying to undo the damage she’s caused, and Taekwoon mulls over telling her that he can just send it to the dry cleaners - that was _a lot_ of coffee, too much to be soaked up by paper towels. 

“I am so sorry, Taekwoon-ssi,” she says for what must be the tenth time in less than five minutes. She’s told him her whole side of the story twice already (“I didn’t want to keep the superiors waiting and wasn’t watching when I was turning the corner and you just happened to be there, _I’m so sorry_ ”) and every time a silence lapses between them, Joohyun just ends up blubbering it all over again, like she’s wired to go on. 

Taekwoon thinks he’s had enough after she nearly shrieks _why won’t this stain come out?_ again. “It’s fine,” he repeats. “It’s not the only blazer I own.”

Joohyun stares at him, momentarily still, before blinking back into motion again. “I can even pay for your dry cleaning if you want, there’s a place by my apartment - ”

Taekwoon shakes his head. “It’s fine,” he insists quietly. He reaches over to wrestle his mostly soggy suit jacket from her hands. Without the fabric between her fingers, Joohyun looks lost. “You’re already busy enough.”

“So are you,” Joohyun reminds him, as if Taekwoon wasn’t aware of the fact. Taekwoon just shakes his head again. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Taekwoon says. “I know, I’ve been where you are…” he trails off, the realization visibly dawning over Joohyun’s carefully constructed countenance.

“I’m sorry,” she says. Taekwoon thinks she has nothing to apologize for. “It completely slipped my mind. I mean, how - ” _How was it for you?_

Taekwoon decides to be honest. “I wanted to quit at some point,” he admits. Joohyun drops her gaze. “It wasn’t even as bad for me. I had Gayoon-ssi helping me with everything, but you’re…” He lets the last word hang in an implied quiet between them.

Joohyun starts wiping at the sink with a paper towel. Her short heels clack against the linoleum tiles as she goes to throw it in the trash can. Taekwoon watches as her lips press together in that way they always do - preventing the words from falling past them. Now that he’s closer, he can see her forehead crease a little in thought in tandem with them. 

Her hands hover over the bag of unspilled coffee drinks that survived their encounter. “But it gets better, right?” she asks in a voice so tiny that Taekwoon almost thinks he’s watching her from his cubicle across the floor again, voice soft, words too far away to hear. 

The thing is: Taekwoon’s not really sure. And as he’s trying to quantify everything he’s felt during the past two years - failure, incompetency, a deep loneliness that settled in his bones, gratitude for Gayoon and Hakyeon, pride for securing himself a permanent position at the firm, a sense of looking at his future through a dense morning fog - she grips the bag, bowing her head slightly to Taekwoon before exiting the break room at her usual brisk pace, off to distribute the remaining orders. It takes Taekwoon a moment to realize through the haze of his thoughts and two hours of sleep that he didn’t reply.

 

 

Taekwoon learns from Hakyeon that Joohyun has a degree in Business from Ewha University, that she’s from Daegu, and that she keeps all her tasks organized down to the slightest detail in a planner - color-coded and all. 

“She’s the real deal,” Hakyeon said with a whistle when Taekwoon only responded with a confused expression on his face. Apparently, Hakyeon had actually seen Joohyun take out said planner. 

Sometimes he catches Joohyun in the break room. When she realizes it’s him, not one of their superiors coming to complain how there’s no more coffee in the coffee maker or to yell at them to get back to work, a small smile tugs at her lips - the corners of which are usually downturned in nervousness. They chat about trivial things - weekends, news, stuff about work, the occasional copy machine mishap (“When I came back after twenty minutes, I’d realized I never actually hit the ‘copy’ button...Superior Jang did not look happy with me”) - and their conversations are always pleasant. Sometimes Hakyeon is there. Other times, Gayoon. Sometimes Joohyun laughs at something Taekwoon says - never a loud, sharp laughter but more quiet, small, domesticated, contained. It doesn’t fail to make Taekwoon smile in response.

One day, after Gayoon reluctantly returns to her cubicle to double check calculations of receivables, Joohyun stirs her already-lukewarm coffee with a determined shine in her eyes. Taekwoon thinks about asking, but Joohyun sighs in the place of where his words would’ve went. 

“Gayoon-ssi really knows what she wants out of life, doesn’t she?” Joohyun says, looking slightly wistful. “I wish I could be as confident as her.”

Taekwoon remembers all the times Gayoon’s walked in on their break room conversations, always interjecting her opinion when it was fair to do so but never overwhelming their discussions. Each time, he’d noticed how Joohyun seemed to almost hang onto every word Gayoon said, but hadn’t thought much of it. 

“Hmm,” Taekwoon hums, conflicted. Maybe a year ago, he’d had the same thoughts. Today, a murky feeling swirls within him that he can’t quite put a name to, but Taekwoon’s mostly sure it isn’t envy.

Joohyun presses her lips together at his response. She’d been doing that less around him over the past month, but every now and then, it still came out, like a habit. “I wish I knew what I wanted out of life,” Joohyun says slowly, after much deliberation. As Taekwoon absorbs her words, she turns away to wash the leftover mugs in the sink, as if she’s not expecting any response.

“It’s okay to not know,” Taekwoon whispers. He doesn’t think the words reach Joohyun’s ears over the running water from the sink. Maybe it’s better that they don’t, though. They’re probably not what Joohyun needs to hear.

 

 

On very rare occasions, Joohyun talks about her parents. Taekwoon notices how the nervous energy that usually thrums through her words stiffens, how her lips press together after the mere mention of _but I can’t talk about it with them, they just don’t_ get it _you know?_

Taekwoon, too, knows the feeling. Their parents came from a generation where you could force yourself to want things and end up getting them if you tried hard enough. That’s how his father, who had no true passion for helping others and would complain about the things he’d do at work everyday at home, ended up as a nurse - hard work and determination.

Their generation, on the other hand, factored in something called _dreams._ Desires, ambition, the ever-present _what’s your ideal job?_ question on applications. Taekwoon went to a university surrounded by people who knew exactly how to answer this question, while he stared at his computer screen for hours. Instead, there he was, majoring in Business because his parents had gently suggested it to him while giving a lecture about “doing something useful with your university experience.”

It’s not like Taekwoon hated accounting, or taxes, or learning about finance. But even after getting his degree certificate in the mail and holding it delicately in his two hands, Taekwoon still didn’t know what he wanted to do. When thinking in proportion to his life, Taekwoon thought it made little sense to decide how to dedicate your entire fifty-year career when you were only in your twenties, barely old enough to make good decisions or to have the good judgement to follow them. But then again, he’d managed to land the job he has now and finds that he doesn’t hate it, so Taekwoon wonders if he’s just caught up over nothing.

“I’m not ungrateful,” Joohyun says one day, fingers tightening around the cup of coffee in her hand. She glances over to Taekwoon without meeting his eyes, and then, as if noticing his gaze on her fingers, relaxes them. They leave a slight indentation in the disposable cup. “It’s just…” she trails off. Presses her lips together.

If Taekwoon was Hakyeon he’d be say something to make Joohyun feel better. Hakyeon was good at that. If he was Gayoon, he’d say something challenging, like _have you ever talked to them about that?_ Taekwoon had been on the receiving end of a question like that before, and it’d made him squirm, unsettled. 

But Taekwoon is Taekwoon, and after a good few minutes of thoughtful silence, he replies, “I know how you feel.”

Joohyun looks up at him, her eyes meeting his eyes for the first time during their entire discussion. Taekwoon doesn’t know if she believes him or cares enough to - they’re just co-workers who barely know each other, sitting across each other with already-cold coffees between them, young twenty-somethings still trying to map out the world. All he knows is that she presses her fingers together, away from the coffee cup, and ducks her head down again, trying not to cry.

 

 

“Why don’t you come eat dinner with us tomorrow?”

Taekwoon’s pouring creamer into his coffee at the counter when he catches Hakyeon asking. Joohyun’s sitting at the table across from him, and even Gayoon is there, hovering in the corner reading a packet of documents for their meeting in the afternoon. Taekwoon is busy wondering why it’s taken Hakyeon so long to ask - after all, he’d told them to trust him with the task, hadn’t he? - until he realizes that they hadn’t eaten together in two months. Tax season did that to people. Taekwoon sometimes didn’t even remember if he’d eaten in the moments right before slipping into a deep sleep, where he’d dream of eating his mother’s home cooked food instead. 

That slight crease appears on Joohyun’s forehead. Taekwoon notices Gayoon discreetly looking up, in disguise of turning a page, to measure Joohyun’s reaction. They’d all grown to like Joohyun, finding her fresh-out-of-university-ness “endearing” (according to Hakyeon) and “a cry for help” (as stated by Gayoon, who surprisingly warmed up to Joohyun the most). “Like a department dinner?” she tries. Her eyes are slightly deer-in-the-highlights wide.

Hakyeon laughs at that. “No, no!” he insists quickly. Joohyun’s gaze flits between him, Taekwoon, and Gayoon, still doubtful. “Just with us. And the interns from recent years. If you know Minhyuk,” he says, nodding towards the hallway, where Minhyuk is passing by. Hearing Hakyeon say his name, Minhyuk pauses and glances around. After discerning that none of their superiors were lingering around, he flips Hakyeon the bird before walking off. 

“It’s fun,” Gayoon pitches in. Joohyun bites her lip, noticeably indecisive now that Gayoon’s put in a good word. Taekwoon wonders why they hadn’t just redelegated the task to Gayoon, knowing how much Joohyun looked up to her. “And it’s good to take a night off, especially after this past month.”

Hakyeon motions with his head for Taekwoon to add in some sort of encouragement as well. Taekwoon picks at a hangnail on his thumb, wondering if there’s anything that hasn’t been said already. _Oh._ “Everyone’s really nice,” Taekwoon tries. 

Gayoon reaches over to knock him in the shoulder with her papers. “If we weren’t nice do you think we’d be inviting Joohyun?” she deadpans. “Of course we’re nice.”

Taekwoon brushes off the place where Gayoon prodded him with her documents. Hakyeon laughs, amused, with a twinkle in his eye. Even Joohyun has noticeably relaxed, the hint of a smile tugging at her mouth. “So what do you say?” Hakyeon asks, turning back toward her.

Joohyun just shakes her head, the small smile still dusting her lips. But Taekwoon hears her say, “Send me the details through text,” and Hakyeon pumps his fist in the air. Gayoon walks out of the break room reading her documents, but looking happier than financial statements could ever make her. 

When Taekwoon meets Joohyun’s gaze, he feels a mirror of her smile growing on his face.

 

 

Joohyun’s on her second beer. Taekwoon tries not to glance over to her too often, but he keeps worrying that every time he looks back at her, she’ll look uncomfortable and as jittery as she used to when she first started working in their department. This time when he sees her, she’s laughing at something Minhyuk and Hakyeon said and are probably bickering over. Taekwoon covers his relieved smile with the rim of his beer can.

“So what’s,” Gayoon starts, pointedly ignoring Hakyeon and Minhyuk, motioning towards Joohyun with her chopsticks instead. “The craziest thing you’ve ever done?”

Eunkwang, who’d been an intern during Hakyeon and Minhyuk’s year, but had been transferred to a different department in the time after he got a permanent position, pipes in in Joohyun’s place, mouth full of food. “Finishing university in three years after doing my military service,” he says. Gayoon swats him away.

“Running to the supermarket that’s twenty minutes away to buy new coffee filters when my break was only ten,” Yongguk adds in. He shakes his head. “Can’t believe I actually made it.”

Jieun gives him a judgemental glance. “Was that even worth it?” She flicks him on the shoulder. “You know that there’s a convenience store right across the street.”

Yongguk looks offended, rubbing where she’d flicked him as if it actually hurt. “That one wasn’t open back then!” Even Eunkwang shoots him a doubtful look at that.

Joohyun laughs, but doesn’t contribute to the conversation, still considering. Taekwoon decides to go instead. “Having my first beer when I was thirteen.”

Even Hakyeon looks scandalized. Gayoon just claps him on the back. “Didn’t know you had it in you, Taekwoon,” she says, sounding impressed. Joohyun’s eyes light up across from him, like she’s just thought of what to say.

“I dyed my hair purple my junior year of university,” she admits. Minhyuk whistles. 

“Like, during the summer?” Gayoon asks. “Or did you actually go to class with purple hair and all?” 

Joohyun flushes, looking shy. “During the school year.” When she notices some of their awed expressions, she brings up her hands as if to physically, along with verbally, defend herself. “It was just for fun! I wanted to see what it felt like to be an idol!”

Hakyeon bursts out laughing at that. “Joohyunie is so cute,” he coos. Joohyun hides behind her hair at the affectionate use of her name.

“I remember when I wanted to be a rapper,” Yongguk grins sheepishly. “Back in high school. But look at me now, doing taxes.” Taekwoon notices that Yongguk looks content saying it, though. But then again, maybe it’s the added effect of the alcohol.

“Yeah, I wanted to be an idol when I was younger,” Joohyun says. There’s a far away look in her eyes. “But my parents would never let me.” She ducks behind her hair again.

Hakyeon hums. “Taxes aren’t so bad, though,” he says. Taekwoon knows that Hakyeon loves what he does, though, no matter how menial or tedious the task. It was because Hakyeon had so much love for their work that he extended that love to his coworkers. Taekwoon sometimes wondered how Hakyeon’s heart never burst from the excessive need to give.

“They aren’t,” Joohyun whispers, a wisp of a thought. Taekwoon catches it before it’s lost in between Minhyuk loudly stating, “Unlike Hakyeon’s depreciation calculations,” with Gayoon loudly agreeing. Hakyeon jumps in to justify his mistakes and everything falls into a friendly chaos again.

Taekwoon notices that the smile on Joohyun’s lips is more forced when she looks up to meet his eyes. Taekwoon wonders through the rest of his next beer and the noisy banter of their friends if she knows he heard her.

 

 

“That was fun,” Joohyun remarks as they’re walking out of the subway station. Taekwoon had never noticed before - probably due to the fact that they never seemed to get off work at the same time - but they boarded the subway at the same stop. It’d be nice to have someone to help keep him awake on the morning commute.

Taekwoon digs his hands further into his coat pockets, the winter air nipping at his wrists, nodding. “I’ll walk you home,” he offers as they wait for the crosswalk. 

Joohyun opens her mouth to protest, but thinks about it for a moment, and then looks straight ahead again. “Thank you, Taekwoon-ssi,” she says.

Joohyun tells Taekwoon that her apartment is less than ten minutes away from the station. They spend a good five of those minutes in relative silence, their shoes scraping against the asphalt the only sound between them. Taekwoon walks slightly behind Joohyun, who walks at her normal, brisk pace, so unlike Taekwoon’s own - more drawn-out and relaxed. He’d never noticed that Joohyun was so much shorter than him, even in her short heels. Maybe they’d never stood side-by-side like this before, or he’d assumed that Joohyun’s nervous energy made it seem like she was smaller than she actually was.

It’s at the next intersection that Joohyun starts talking again. “I’m jealous,” she states. Taekwoon glances down at her, but she’s not looking at him. Without any hint of what’s going through her mind, he waits for her and the crosswalk to go on.

“All of you guys,” Joohyun starts, and then the walk sign turns on. They take their first step onto the road in unison, falling out of it soon after. “I hope I can be that sure of myself someday.” Taekwoon sees her bottom lip quiver a little. 

“Joohyun-ssi,” Taekwoon says after a beat of silence. He wets his lips, not sure of how to put what he wants to say in words aloud. So he says her name again. “Joohyun-ssi.”

She looks up to meet his eyes this time. They don’t pause, but she does slow down her steps. The trees lining the streets are dark shadows in the night beside them. 

Taekwoon doesn’t think it’s enough to tell Joohyun that he’d been where she was now not long ago, that it’ll all turn out okay in the end, when he himself had never been sure that would be the case for him. Nothing he can say would ever be enough.

But Taekwoon wants Joohyun to know that they’re still young and willing to sort out their futures and that even through all the pressure and self-doubt, things would work out somehow. Taekwoon wants to say what he can’t find the words to convey aloud so he sucks in a deep breath instead and reverts back to silence. Three more minutes of them walking slowly, side-by-side, pass just like that.

And then they stop in front of an apartment complex. Joohyun’s apartment complex. It really isn’t far from the station at all. “Thank you again, Taekwoon-ssi,” Joohyun says, meeting his gaze for a second before it flits away, past his ear. 

“Taekwoon,” he blurts out to correct her. Joohyun looks surprised from his outburst. “Just Taekwoon is fine. Unless Superior Jang is around.” Thinks about it. “Or any other superior of ours.”

Joohyun’s face twists into a laugh. They escape her mouth quietly, but her eyes are bright again in the dim lamp lights. “Taekwoon,” she confirms.

“If you ever need anything,” Taekwoon starts. “We’re all friends here.”

“Friends,” Joohyun echoes, tasting the word on her tongue. She looks down, hiding her face behind her hair, but Taekwoon can see the smile on her lips. “I’ll let you know if anything comes up.” 

They stand there for a bit, a good few feet apart, Taekwoon glancing at his toes, Joohyun focusing on something above Taekwoon’s head. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Joohyun finally says. “Taekwoon.”

“Tomorrow,” Taekwoon smiles. Joohyun punches in the code for the gate and waves, smile a small beacon in the night, before disappearing into the complex. He waves back in response.

And as Taekwoon walks home, he finds himself looking up at the sky, where a few stars are twinkling in the darkness. If he squints, he can pretend they’re as bright as he hopes his and Joohyun’s far away futures will be. 

Because maybe Joohyun will decide one day that taxes aren’t for her, and leave. Maybe it’ll be Taekwoon. Maybe there’ll come a time when Taekwoon doesn’t have friends or someone like Joohyun to remind him that everything actually does turn out alright. 

But when that time comes, Taekwoon hopes he’ll look up at the sky like he is now, and see the stars. And that after a moment, he’ll look back ahead of him and keep walking home, the cold night nipping at his wrists.


End file.
